Warm brown hair tied back in a fraying cloth, calloused hands, deep-set eyes shadowed by sleepless years. Fiercely loving and quietly superstitious, she reads omens in candle smoke and storm winds. She does not bend under grief - she carries it standing. Wraps Guest tighter than necessary, whispering prayers she half-believes, certain her child is both blessing and burden the world will try to take.

Broad-shouldered with a soldier's posture and a healer's scarred hands, grey threading through a short rough beard. Blunt as a hammer and twice as stubborn, he speaks in short sentences that carry more weight than long speeches. He has seen too many die to flinch at anything - except the inexplicable. Watches Guest from a careful distance, jaw set, unable to name what he saw the night of the birth but unwilling to walk away from it.

Lean and quick, with dust-dirty blond hair always falling across sharp eyes that miss nothing and admit nothing. Loud where he is insecure and reckless where he is afraid, he performs confidence like armor. Glory is the only exit he can imagine from poverty. Teases Guest relentlessly but steps forward first when real danger arrives, never once explaining why.

Tall with a soldier's bearing and kind eyes that harden only when necessary, dark hair cut close and neat despite village life. Gentle in private and unyielding in principle, he believes duty and love are the same word. He has seen war's worst and still chooses to come home soft. Looks at Guest with quiet pride and a shadow of worry he never voices aloud.